


Think of Me

by lupwned



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, It will be slow burn but I promise it will hurt SO GOOD, Memory Loss, There will be so many feels I promise, with a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like a good physicist, Erin studies. She studies the way Holtzmann’s eyelashes flutter while she sleeps. She studies the way her fingertips twitch as they rest on her outer thigh. She studies, and learns, and memorizes.</p><p>---</p><p>Or a story in which Erin Gilbert must help Jillian Holtzmann become Jillian Holtzmann once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Erin Gilbert does not have a massively huge, swooning like a teeny bopper over sparkling vampires, hopelessly devoted to you crush on Jillian Holtzmann.

_Absolutely not._

She does not feel a prickle on the back of her neck and tingling in her fingertips when Holtz brushes against her mid-ghostbusting before launching into a barrel roll to approach the glowing blue presence in front of them. And she does not – oh god, she most _definitely_ does not – feel anything when Holtz jumps to her feet, turns slightly at the hip and winks at her before running her tongue over the side of her proton gun. She faces forward one again and cocks the gun. A single zap – it’s quick and perfectly aimed, as if Erin would expect anything less from Holtz - and the ghost is captured, secure in the pack strapped on Holtz’s back.

“Kickass!” Abby exclaims as she runs towards them from across the street where she and Patty had been in the midst of catching their own ghost. Abby approaches and pats Holtz on the back and then turns to Erin, who is still standing there, staring at the blonde scientist like a lovesick puppy dog. “I can see you were a _huge_ help here,” Abby says with an eyeroll. She snaps her fingers in front of Erin’s face, which seems to bring her out of her adoring haze.

Erin blinks a few times and stammers. “Uhh.”

Holtzmann turns to her and smiles that goddamned dimpled smile that does so many things to her. Delicious, _delightful_ things.

Erin Gilbert does not have a crush on Jillian Holtzmann. _Absolutely not_.

**-X-X-X-**

“Cheese or pepperoni?” Patty gestures toward Erin with a piece of each in hand.

“Cheese,” Erin responds, not looking up from the newspaper she is thumbing through at the table. A beat, then she raises her head and squints. “No, wait. Pepperoni.” She reaches out to Patty, who places two slices on a paper plate and slides it across the counter. Starving, she grabs a piece and eyes it like the juiciest piece of meat she’s ever seen. Her mouth begins to water before she stuffs half the slice into her mouth and practically inhales the greasy piece of heaven.

“Anyone seen Holtzmann?” Patty asks.

“Last I saw, she was upstairs working on something,” Abby responds while grabbing a plate of her own. “She’s been in her own little world lately.” Abby pauses. “Well, even more than usual for Holtz.”

Patty snorts.

“I’ll go take her a plate,” Patty offers, grabbing the food in one hand and a cup of soda in the other.

Erin jumps out of her chair and snatches the food from Patty’s grasp. “I’ll bring it to her,” she chokes out through a mouthful of pepperoni.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Gilbert,” Patty laughs. Abby and Patty exchange a look before the taller woman steps back and puts her hands in the air. “Take it.”

Erin smiles sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed by her outburst. She gulps, then opens her mouth to come up with some type of excuse, but the only thing that comes out is an awkward squeak of a laugh. She turns on her heels for the staircase and makes her way up toward where Abby saw Jillian working.

She barely makes her way up the stairs before she hears the familiar sound of tools buzzing away. Erin approaches the doorway and barely peeks her head through the doorway, instead giving herself a moment to admire. Holtzmann dances around the room, a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. She wears a pair of old, loose jeans, rolled up – perfectly uneven – that shouldn’t compliment her figure but, good God, they just _do_.

Erin bites her lower lip and inhales slowly, as quietly as she can. She closes her eyes for a moment before taking a step forward into the lab toward Holtzmann, who is intensely focused on a cacophony of pieces parts spread across the experiment table. She’s bent slightly at the waist against the table, trying to fit different parts into various slots before discarding incorrect pieces behind her with an indifferent toss over her shoulder. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t even seem to notice Erin’s existence.

 _Brilliant_ , Erin thinks to herself. “Hellooo,” she sings, waving the pizza and soda slightly.

Jillian looks up slowly, then flashes that toothy smile that makes Erin melt like butter. No, her breath definitely doesn’t catch in her throat as a result. _Definitely_ not.

Holtzmann’s eyes sparkle behind yellow-hued goggles, which she promptly takes off and tosses aside onto the table. “Hiya.”

Erin shifts her weight back and forth between her feet nervously and let’s out a pained laugh. “I, uh. I brought you something.” There’s a long pause while Holtzmann just stares at her, smiling. “Food. I brought you food.” Erin extends her hands out to give the grinning scientist the pizza and soda.

“Thanks!” Jillian responds, snatching each item out of Erin’s hands. “The low fuel light was a’ flashin’.” She takes a large bite out of the pizza and chews loudly.

Erin laughs awkwardly again and locks her hands in front of her, not quite sure what to do with herself. She stares ahead and finally gets a good look at Holtzmann’s outfit. Perfectly paired with the ratty jeans is a white and red t-shirt; it reads, “Ah! The element of surprise!” Erin snorts. So ridiculous, so classically Holtz.

Erin realizes she’s just been standing there in the awkward silence, the only sound Jillian’s chewing and swallowing. She takes a few steps to the right toward a pile of metal that appears to be Holtzmann’s latest concoction. Curious, Erin reaches out to touch the contraption, but is quickly stopped by an urgent “Gilbert!” She pulls her hand to her chest and turns back toward Holtz.

“What??”

“It’s urgent!” Jillian exclaims, pointing into her cup.

Concerned, Erin rushes over. She looks down into the cup of fizzing Pepsi and arches an eyebrow. “What, what is it?!”

“Look,” Holtz whispers, inching her face closer to the drink. Their faces are close, their noses almost touching as the two women look inside the Styrofoam cup as if it were the goddamned Cave of Wonders. Erin can smell a mixture of coconut lime shampoo from curly blonde hair and greasy pepperoni breath. She should not find it enticing.

_She does._

“What?” Erin whispers, her eyes looking up to meet Holtzmann’s. They’re strikingly blue and seem to shine despite the subdued lighting of the lab. Jillian parts her lips and flicks her tongue out slightly and Erin thinks she may kiss her – oh my god, what is she kisses her. Erin closes her eyes and oh so slyly puckers up.

Then, suddenly, Jillian blows into her straw and sends fizzy bubbles pooling over her drink and into Erin’s face. Holtz finds it hilarious, a throaty laugh filling the space between them.

Erin sniffs and steps away, wiping a few drops of Pepsi from her face. “Ha. Ha. Hilarious,” she grumbles. Holtzmann continues to laugh.

So much for kissing.

Erin clears her throat and rubs her forehead. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you had something to-“ She stops as a pile of paperwork and blueprints catch her eye in the corner of the table. They’re stacked in manila envelopes and folders with a few stray pieces peaking out of the corners. “What are these?” she asks, thumbing through the blue and white papers.

“Something,” Holtzmann says quickly, grabbing the stack of folders and pulling them to her chest. She doesn’t say much beyond that, but the look on her face tells Erin she’s not exactly up to talking about it.

Her interest piqued, Erin steps behind the table where Holtzmann is. “Is this ‘Something’?” She gestures toward a small instrument in the shape of a triangle.

This time, it’s Holtz who shifts her weight back and forth on her feet. “Mmmm……hmm.” She tosses the folders behind her, then gently swats Erin away and picks up a screwdriver.

Erin simply stares, expecting Jillian to elaborate on whatever it is she’s been working on.

  
_She doesn’t._

There’s a long silence before Holtz finally explains, “It’s in the early stages.” She taps her screwdriver on the table a few times before bending down and tinkering with the machine again. “I’m not ready to disclose it’s exact purpose just yet. Pliers?”

Erin stands for a moment, unmoving, having simply basked in the wonder that is Holtzmann “inventing”.

“Yo. E.G., phone home,” Holtz teases, waving her hand in front of Erin’s face.

She blushes before rushing over to the adjacent table to grab the pliers. “Sorry, I was just basking. I-I-I mean, thinking.” Erin extends her palm forward and hands Jillian the pliers.

Holtzmann grabs the tool, but pauses for a moment to look at Erin. She smiles. “About what?”

You.

Me.

_Inventing and chill._

“N-nothing,” Erin stammers, folding her arms over her chest.

Holtzmann says nothing, simply salutes her with her free hand before turning back to the machine.

Erin is mortified. She’s made a total fool of herself, with her stuttering and her staring and her….well, her general _self_. Why she ever thought there was even a chance of anything between of the two of them…she turns on her heels toward the doorway to the staircase. “Ok bye!” Erin says hurriedly, marching back to the doorway.

She barely rounds the corner before she hears it – the familiar zap of wires short circuiting. She’d heard it a million times before during Holtzmann’s experiments – nothing to be particularly concerned about. But then she hears a bang, followed by a thump, and Erin knows something is different here. Something _not quite right._

She turns around and half enters the room, leaning the right side of her body into the doorway. Then suddenly, time stops. Her heart pounds in her ears and her whole body shakes and shivers simultaneously. Wires flicker and sizzle as they are engulfed into flames.

And on the ground, in an unconscious heap with several burns and what appears to be a wound to the forehead, is Jillian Holtzmann.

Erin is paralyzed, her head screaming for her to just fucking _do something_ , but her body frozen. She half expects Holtz to jump up with a classic “gotcha!” or finger guns or something. She’d murder her afterward, sure, but at least she would know she was _ok_.

“Jesus Christ, Holtz, get up,” Erin thinks to herself, her nails digging into the doorframe as the fear continues to freeze her in place. “Get up.”

She doesn’t.

_Erin screams._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your wonderful comments and kudos :) I appreciate each and every one, and they feed the fic flame!


	2. Chapter 2

Hours pass, but the sound of sirens still buzzes in Erin’s ears. She looks around the hospital waiting room, so white and crisp and clean despite the darkness that happens behind these very walls. Patty sits across from her, feigning interest in one of many magazines stacked on a nearby table. Her eyes dart up each time a doctor walks by, hoping that it’s one with news about Holtzmann.

Erin does the same.

Abby is a total wreck, bouncing from nurse to nurse demanding to be given information about their teammate. She slams her fist on the receptionist’s desk and demands answers.

“Ma’am, please sit down. As I’ve told you before, the doctor will be out to see you all as soon as he has an update. Now please, go back to –“

Abby grunts and storms out of the waiting room, slamming the door open as she does so.

Patty sighs. “I’ll go talk her down. She’s just scared.” She returns the magazine to the table and stands slowly, her hands on her knees as she rises. She steps forward and takes Erin’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “You gonna be ok?”

Erin sucks in a deep breath, then holds it. She nods.

Patty squeezes her hand a little harder. “It’s not your fault, you know. Holtz, she….there’s nothing you could have done differently. It’s shocking she hasn’t done more damage sooner.”

Erin exhales, then bites the inside of her cheek. “Not exactly helping…” she grumbles, and Patty laughs nervously.

“Yeah, too soon….” She lets go of Erin’s hand and scratches the back of her head. “She’ll be ok. You’ll be ok. Once I talk Abby down from shootin’ the receptionist with a proton gun, she’ll be ok too.” Patty smiles and turns. She gives Erin’s shoulder a little squeeze before making her way toward Abby.

Guilt. It creeps up Erin’s neck, behind her ears and across her cheeks. If she’d left the machine alone, not asked questions, Holtz would probably still be back in the lab, tinkering around with the other dozen contraptions slowly coming into fruition.

Or she could have _done_ something instead of standing there screaming like a child, waiting to be rescued by her teammates. Holtzmann would have rescued her. Holtzmann would have bounded through fire and lightening and winds and hail to rescue her. Instead, she sat there, frozen, watching her colleague unconscious on the floor. If it hadn’t been for Abby and Patty…

“Ms. Gilbert”? A deep voice approaches her chair and extends a hand. “I’m Dr. Pierson. You were listed as the point of contact upon Ms. Holtzmann’s admission. Can we speak for a moment?”

Erin leaps from her seat. “Can I see her? Where is she? Is she ok?” She hasn’t even heard an answer about Holtz’s condition and she already feels like crying.

“Ms. Holtzmann is resting now. She has a few burns, but the area of biggest concern is the injury to her head.” Dr. Pierson fumbles through a clipboard of papers in his left hand. “She appears to have suffered from some blunt force trauma. Do you have any idea what happened, exactly?”

Erin pauses for a moment. “She was finding new ways to hunt and capture ghosts” doesn’t exactly seem like the best way to fill the doctor in on _Firehouse Kablamo 2016_. “Holtzmann – Jillian – is a scientist. She was working on a new invention.”

“ _Not exactly a lie_ ,” Erin thinks to herself.

“I’m not exactly sure what went wrong,” she continues. “I only heard the aftermath. There was a pop and a bang and then…” Erin looks away and the image of Holtzmann unconscious on the floor creeps to the forefront. She shivers and folds her hands across her chest, rubbing her hands up and down over her arms.

Dr. Pierson scribbles something down on his clipboard, then clears his throat. “Alright. Would you like to see her? She’s going to be a little groggy but-“

“YES.” It takes all of her willpower not to catapult down the hallway to find Holtzmann on her own.

They walk in silence down several sets of hallways toward intensive care. It’s oddly quiet, and it makes the back of Erin’s neck itch.

“Room 151. Jillian Holtzmann.” Dr. Pierson motions toward the door.

Erin takes a deep breath and enters the doorway, terrified at what she may find on the other side. She’s hoping for the usual Holtz, who, she decides, would be playing with her hospital bed – up, down, up, down – or secretly slipping off her heart monitor to scare the total crap out of all the nurses around her. Yes, she assures herself, that’s totally the Holtz on the other side of the door.

“Holtz?” Erin says quietly as she steps further into the room. Her heart skips a beat and her breath hitches when she sees Holtzmann tucked into the tiny hospital bed.

Holtz’s eyes are closed and her breathing is slow but steady. Her hair – slightly singed at the bangs and hairline – is knotted and draped lazily across the poor excuse for a pillow that props her head up. A thin plastic tube rests between her nose and upper lip, and Erin can hear the monotonous “whoosh” of the oxygen machine pumping a steady stream of air into Jillian’s nostrils. Blood stains a thick bandage spread across her forehead, and ash colors her cheeks and neck. Erin is slightly furious that they haven’t cleaned her up more…made her more comfortable and at ease.

“We’ve got her on some pain medications as well as some antibiotics to fight any infections,” Dr. Pierson explains, stepping forward toward the IV bag that hangs on a bar next to Holtzmann’s bed. He squeezes the bag slightly and checks the IV line that ends tucked into Jillian’s hand. Erin winces at the thought.

She reaches out and hesitantly traces a finger across Holtzmann’s arm, bare from mid arm to her fingertips where the flimsy hospital gown doesn’t cover. “Can she hear me if I talk to her?” Erin asks innocently. She’s a scientist – she generally knows the answer – but she asks anyway.

“Oh yes. She’s just resting,” Dr. Pierson laughs slightly.

Erin doesn’t find it funny.

Any anger toward the doctor instantly disappears when she hears Holtzmann stir slightly.

“Holtz,” she almost exclaims, and it takes all of her strength not to hug the other woman so tight and never let her go. She’s not hers to keep, Erin reminds herself, but that doesn’t mean she ever wants to let her go.

Holtzmann blinks a few times and looks around, slowly taking in her surroundings. Her facial features go from dazed to confused to terrified. Her eyes widen. The pulse on the heart monitor skyrockets. Erin has never seen Holtz like this, and it scares her.

“Is she ok?” Erin asks the doctor, who moves closer to the bed and places his hand on Jillian’s shoulder, trying to calm her.

“Ms. Holtzmann, it’s alright. Do you know where you are?”

Holtz tries to speak, but it comes out hoarse and intelligible. She swallows slowly, deliberately, then shakes her head.

“You’re in the hospital. You had an accident.”

Holtzmann doesn’t respond.

“You were working on something new,” Erin interrupts. “For weeks, really. Very engrossed. You weren’t ready to talk about it, much, but you seemed very excited about it. I was just-“

“Who are you?” Holtzmann croaks, squinting her eyes.

The words knock the air out of Erin’s chest. “Erin? It’s…it’s Erin? Erin Gilbert?”

Holtzmann nods her head a few times, slowly.

Erin sucks in a deep breath, ready to give Dr. Pierson a piece of her mind – ask what the _fuck_ is going on here – when Abby barges into the room, with Patty only slightly behind.

“Holtz!” Abby roars, marching to the bed. “You ok?!”

Erin eyes the blonde, who, despite her usual cool and suave demeanor, looks positively petrified.

“Alright, let’s give her some space,” Erin interrupts, pressing her palms against Abby’s back to usher her out of the room. The doctor follows suit behind them.

They shuffle into the hallway.

“The human mind is extremely fragile,” Dr. Pierson begins.

Abby and Patty look at one another, confused. It’s only a beat before Abby is barely a foot away from the doctor, losing her cool. “We’re _scientists_. We know that. What the hell are you talking about? Why can’t we see her?”

Dr. Pierson interrupts Abby’s tirade of questions, raising his voice slightly. “Alright, everyone just calm down.” His eyes dart to the side and quickly meet Erin’s, who is burning hot with rage and irritation despite her cool and quiet demeanor. “It appears that Ms. Holtzmann has suffered a head injury as a result of the accident.”

Abby’s breath hitches as she inhales. “Oh my god…” She tangles her fingers in her hair and turns away from the doctor, shaking her head in disbelief.

“How bad is it?” Patty asks.

Dr. Pierson clears his throat. “She may be suffering from some temporary memory loss.”

Abby lets out a cry. Patty gasps.

And Erin simply stands there, balling her hands into fists. Her nails dig into her palms hard enough that she will definitely have a bruise later.

“Listen,” Dr. Pierson continues, reaching out his hand toward the group in a half-assed attempt at comfort. “We don’t know the full extent of her injuries until we can talk with her a bit more. Right now she’s going to be in a bit of a fog with the medications we have her on. It is best to let her rest and see what happens from there.” He pauses. “I would suggest determining some temporary living arrangements. Ms. Holtzmann is probably going to need some additional care for a little while, and-“

“I’ll do it!” Erin blurts out. She picks at her fingernail nervously before turning to Abby and Patty. “The whole thing is kinda my fault anyway. If I hadn’t-“

“Erin, you know it’s not…“ Patty consoles, but Erin simply turns away.

“I’ll do whatever I need to do to help her.” Erin pauses. “To make this right.”

Abby takes a step forward and grabs Erin’s hands. “We _all_ will.” She flashes a small smile.

The doctor smiles as well. “One of you can stay the night here with her. I’d suggest the rest of you head home. We won’t know until morning, but I would bet your friend will be able to spring out of here soon enough.” He taps his knuckle on his clipboard a few times, waiting to see if any of them have any questions. “I’ll be back to check on her soon.”

“I’m going to stay with her tonight,” Erin insists, gently pushing her way between the two other women toward the hospital room door.

Abby sighs and grabs her best friend’s arm. “Erin, you’ve had a rough day. Why don’t you go home and get some-“

“No!” Erin barks, pulling her arm away. “I…I need to do this.”

Abby opens her mouth to argue, but only a squeak of a protest comes out before Patty squeezes her shoulder.

“We understand,” Patty says. She pauses, then looks at Abby sternly. “Right??”

“But…” Abby chews at the inside of her mouth angrily, then eventually lets out a muffled ‘fine’ before walking backward slowly to make her way toward the exit. “Anything happens – and I mean anything. As in, Holtz so much as chokes on some Jello, and you call us.” She points her index finger out at Erin. “Promise?”

Erin chuckles. “Yes, I promise.”

“Double pinky?”

She raises both pinky fingers up in the air and makes a ‘U’ motion with each before returning to the hospital room. Nervously, she makes her way back toward Holtzmann, who appears to have fallen back asleep. It’s not surprising, what with the cocktail pumping through her veins.

Better living through science.

Holtz would appreciate that, Erin thinks. She logs it away and reminds herself to tell Jillian about it later.

She grabs a seat from the corner of the room and pulls it next to the bed. Sitting, she scoots herself as close as she can and watches with a mixture of fear and awe as Holtzmann dozes. It’s not a peaceful sleep. Her forehead is wrinkled and her nose is scrunched slightly in what Erin can only think is a mixture of pain and confusion.

Tentatively, Erin reaches out and takes Holtzmann’s hand in hers. It’s cold from the IV that steadily drips into the veins there. She’s never noticed how small and delicate Jillian’s hands are. She’d expected them to be rough and calloused from her work, but instead they’re smooth and soft. Then again, Holtz never falls into what is “expected”.

Erin runs the pad of her thumb left and right over the back of Jillian’s hand, a soothing gesture she remembers from her childhood. It may not have been all peaches and cream, but it was something comforting her mother used to do for her when she was sick. The movement is slow and steady, almost melodic.

She can’t help but sigh in relief as she sees Holtz’s face and body relax, finally creeping into a peaceful, much needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your sweet comments and kudos thus far :) I appreciate each and every one!!! It fuels the fic fire!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Help me?” she asks.
> 
> Erin melts.
> 
> “Always.”

Sleep is elusive, Erin finds, when your not-so-secret crush is lying in a hospital bed. It’s that same sleep that taunts her through the afternoon and evening, edging her to the brink only to startle her awake with nightmares. The cycle becomes monotonous and, after hours of tossing back and forth in the horribly uncomfortable guest cot set up for her in the corner of the room, Erin decides to return to the chair at Holtzmann’s bedside.

She watches with adoration and concern as Jillian sleeps. Carefully, Erin reaches out and strokes the other woman’s hair, tracing her fingers through a mess of waves. She loses herself in a daydream as she curls her index finger around a longer layer that frames Holtzmann’s cheek.

“Talk about bedside manner,” a slightly hoarse voice teases. “A lady could get used to this.”

Quickly, Erin snaps back into reality, gently pulling her hand away from Holtzmann’s hair and back into her own lap. “How are you feeling?” is all she can manage to squeak out, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she can feel it escaping up her throat.

“Hungry,” Holtz replies in true Holtzmann fashion.

Erin chuckles. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone to check the time; **9:00PM** flashes bright in fluorescent font face. “Well, I’m not quite sure that the food court is still open, but I can try and…” She blinks as she watches Jillian pull the thin hospital sheet off of herself and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

“Ready?” Holtzmann asks, wiggling her toes. She removes the oxygen tube from her nose, then slides the IV line out of her hand in one swift motion.

“Uh…we should probably talk to Dr. Pierson first,” Erin warns as she stands from her seat.

“Pffft.” Holtzmann blows a raspberry and rolls her eyes. She, too, stands from her own seat on the hospital bed – or, at least, attempts to. She’s barely to her feet and stepping forward before she sways a little, bringing her hand up to cup the side of her head.

Instinctively, Erin reaches forward, swooping her hands around Holtzmann’s frame as she falls into her. She slowly guides the engineer back to a sitting position on the bed and watches with the upmost concern as the other woman winces and gingerly runs her own fingertips across the bandage on her forehead.

“Take it slow,” Erin says softly. On any other day, in any other place, Holtz would have winked or waggled her eyebrows suggestively at the comment; instead, she nods carefully and reaches for Erin’s hand.

“Help me?” she asks.

Erin melts.

_“Always.”_

**-X-X-X-X-**

“Where did you find the wheelchair?” Holtzmann glances up from the chair and looks at Erin, who is pushing her toward the brightly lit dining hall.

She most definitely didn’t steal it from an old man who had left it in the hallway during his physical therapy.

_Definitely not._

Erin pauses. “Better not to incriminate myself.”

Holtzmann laughs and salutes. “Rodger that.”

They make their way to the food court and, as expected for 9:30 at night, it’s mostly empty. A few nurses pick at some soggy salads in the far right corner, and what seems to be a patient sits alone reading a book while sipping on a fruit smoothie. It’s mostly quiet and there’s little stimulation; Erin thanks the heavens for small favors. “What do you have a taste for?” she asks Holtz, who is eyeing the few options left from the earlier dinner menu.

“Well, ya know, the options here are endless,” Holtzmann replies. “All _two_ of them.”

Erin snorts. She grabs a tray and begins collecting an assortment of items.

“Oh, get some of those!” Holtzmann makes grabby hands toward a snack shelf.

“I don’t think Flaming Hot Cheetos are part of the recovery diet,” Erin teases.

Holtz shrugs.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“How’s your food? Everything you’d imagined?” Erin asks with a mouthful of Jello.

“Practically perfect in every way,” Holtzmann responds cheerily, punctuating her words with a slurp of soda.

Chewing shouldn’t be this captivating, Erin tells herself as she watches Jillian carefully eat a large pile of macaroni and cheese. She eats quickly yet purposefully, choosing which noodle to each next with the utmost precision. Melty cheese sticks to her lip, and Erin watches intently as Holtz’s tongue peeks out and licks it away.

Suddenly, Erin wishes she were a melty piece of cheddar.

“Want some?” Holtzmann offers, extending her fork forward.

Erin scrunches her nose. “That stuff looks like nuke food.”

Holtz laughs. It’s one of the most beautiful things Erin has ever seen.

Despite Holtzmann’s laughter, Erin is suddenly uneasy. She’s not entirely sure what Holtzmann remembers – or, for that matter, if Holtz even truly remembers _her_. She desperately wants to ask, but it’s been a long day, and she doesn’t want to cause Jillian any more stress than she’s already endured.

“It’s fuzzy,” Holtzmann says.

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Your macaroni? I can’t say I’m surprised-“

“My head,” Holtz interrupts, and once again she looks so helpless. She nervously chews on her bright red straw for a moment before continuing. “I don’t really remember,” Jillian confesses.

Erin feels her chest tighten.

“I…” Holtzmann looks down and picks at her fingernail. “I don’t really remember what happened. But I _do_ remember you.”

Erin beams.

“ _Kinda_ ,” Holtzmann continues.

Erin frowns.

“It’s like…you’re an outline,” she explains. She glances up, her eyes meeting Erin’s for the first time during the exchange.

“An outline?” Erin asks, hanging onto every last word.

Holtz nods. “Yes. An outline. You’re there in my memories, even if I can’t fully remember all the details.”

Erin smiles weakly. “We’ll just have to paint a new picture.”

“Like one of your French girls?” Holtzmann grins, dramatically bringing the back of her hand to her forehead.

Erin shakes her head and laughs as Holtz begins to hum to the tune of “My Heart Will Go On”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, once again, for your kind comments and kudos. I love hearing from all of you :) You can find me on ye olde Tumblr at awomanontheverge.tumblr.com, where you can send me prompts or bask in the glory that is my Tumblah.


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Pierson comes in early the following morning to check on Jillian. He gives her a quick examination – Erin watches with care and concern the whole time, knowing Holtz isn’t one for strangers touching her, but she’s a champ and smiles her way through it – and, once concluding she’s doing well and in good hands, signs off for her to head home. He gives Erin some basic instructions and signs to watch out for. Confusion, headaches, mood swings are all typical in the aftermath of a head injury, Pierson explains.

Erin listens as the doctor goes on about wound care – “treat it with antibacterial ointment and redress it each morning” – and thanks him for his help.

“Give us a call if you need anything,” Dr. Pierson says, scribbling a phone number onto piece of paper. He hands it and a collection of scripts to Erin before turning to Holtzmann, who is already halfway out the door. “Take care, Ms. Holtzmann.”

She two-finger salutes the doctor, then smiles at Erin. “Ready to bust out of this joint?”

The pair makes their way out of the intensive care unit toward several sets of elevators that lead to the ground floor. Erin lets Holtz press the ‘ _down_ ’ button – which she does approximately 4 times – “To keep it even,” Holtz explains – and when the elevator arrives with a cheery ‘ _ding!_ ’, they shuffle inside. They stand on opposite sides and Erin can’t help but watch the other woman as she stares as the floor numbers change. Holtzmann’s hair is pulled up in her traditional swoop, the perfect counterpart to the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants Erin bought her from the gift shop to wear home. Despite the bandage on her forehead and the small burns across her cheek and neck, she shines; Erin doesn’t know how it’s possible, but the imperfections make her look even more perfect.

Holtzmann doesn’t seem to notice her staring; instead, she watches the numbers intently and counts them down under her breath. When the elevator reaches “1”, Holtz shuffles back and forth on her feet, antsy, waiting for the door to slide open. It’s barely apart before she tangles the fingers of her right hand with Erin’s and practically drags her out of the elevator.

It’s an innocent gesture – nothing more than friendly, Erin convinces herself – but she can’t help but feel a slight tingle up her arm with the contact. How can this woman supercharge her with a mere handhold? When they step further down the hallway and Holtz lets her go, she almost lets out a whine.

They exit the hospital, Holtz a few steps ahead. She lifts her chin and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose. A soft breeze brushes by and musses the toss of waves on the top of her head. Standing on the sidewalk, she lets herself breathe in the distinctive scent of New York City that burns her lungs but makes her feel more alive than she ever has.

Erin doesn’t dare interrupt Holtzmann’s serenity. She watches in adoration for a few moments until Holtz turns to her and flashes that beautiful, dimple-adorned smile that started this hopeless crush.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Holtzmann asks, gesturing toward the city.

Erin grins, never taking her eyes off of Holtz. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

As Erin fumbles with her apartment door key, she can’t help but feel a little bit of remorse. This isn’t exactly the way she expected to be bringing Holtz ‘back to her place’, but she’s happy to have her here nevertheless.

Erin opens the door and gestures inside. “Welcome. Don’t mind the mess. I didn’t have time to clean up or anything.”

Holtzmann rolls her eyes. “Mess. _Right._ ” She walks over to a cedar wood table tucked in the corner with an array of images in dark brown frames. Erin watches as Holtz runs her fingertips over the glass, tracing an image of the Ghostbusters team before settling on one of just the two of them. They each have an arm around the other and Holtz’s head is resting on her shoulder. Jillian lingers in front of the picture for a few moments, as though the memories will seep through her fingertips and into her subconscious.

“We look really happy here,” Holtzmann says quietly. Her eyes remain focused on the frame.

Erin pauses and bites her lip. “Yeah, we were.”

Holtz stands there in silence. She nervously scratches at her forearm until Erin steps forward and stops her.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the bedroom.”

The suggestion – _thankfully_ \- puts a smile on Holtzmann’s face. “Can’t say no to that,” she teases, bouncing playfully behind Erin as they walk down the hallway.

Erin leads Holtzmann to the guest bedroom, ushering her inside with a wave of her hand. “You can sleep here, if you’d like, or you can take the master bedroom.” She gestures across the hall toward her own bedroom. She pauses for a comment from Holtz. However, she says nothing and just looks around intently, taking in everything from the scent of the lemon lavender Yankee Candle oil-plugin to the dark maroon color of the bedroom walls. “Here is great,” she finally says, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Can I get you anything?”

Holtzmann shakes her head. “I’m really tired.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “I think I’m just going to take a nap for a bit.”

Erin nods. “Right. Sounds good. You need as much rest as you can get right now.” She reaches for the doorknob and pulls the door shut to give Holtzmann some privacy as she sleeps.

“Erin?” She hears her name softly through the door.

  
Erin cracks the door open and peeks through. “Hmmm?”

“Thank you.”

She smiles and nods before closing the door behind her.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Hours pass. Holtzmann sleeps soundly as Erin paces around the apartment, ‘tidying’ up despite the fact that it’s perfectly clean. Organizing is her vice, her nervous habit, but she has to get out some of this pent-up energy that’s bubbled as a result of all the fear and concern that’s consumed her in the last 24 hours. She Swiffers and Cloroxes and Pine Sols, all the while keeping an ear out for Jillian down the hallway.

Once she’s satisfied with the cleanliness of the house, she decides to give Abby and Patty a call at the firehouse to let them know Holtz is home.

_Home_. She swoons at the thought of Holtzmann in her apartment being considered home.

“Hey Abby.”

“Erin!” Abby exclaims. “How is Holtz?”

Erin glances down the hallway toward the closed bedroom door. “She’s alright. She’s back here at the apartment with me.”

Abby gasps. “Why didn’t you tell us?! We would have come to see her-“

“No, not today. She needs some rest,” Erin interrupts. “She’s really tired.”

“Understandably.” Silence. “What does she remember?”

Erin bites her lip and ponders before responding. “She says it’s fuzzy. We haven’t talked much about it, but I’m trying not to push her. It’s only been a day.”

“Right.” Abby’s voice sounds glum.

“She’ll get there,” Erin insists, and she’s not exactly certain whether she’s trying to convince Abby of the fact, or herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed with the response and comments and kudos :) Thanks to everyone. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. More coming (hopefully) very soon!


	5. Chapter 5

The sun sets, leaving darkness in its wake. Rainstorms slowly creep into New York City and Erin begins to hear the rumblings of thunder from her living room. She’s always loved the rain; when moderate storms come through the city, she makes it a habit to watch from her balcony. Tonight, she decides, will not be an exception.

With Holtzmann content in the guest bedroom, Erin grabs a blanket and her cell phone and makes her way outside. Lightning brightly peppers the sky, followed not long thereafter with louder booms of thunder. Excitedly, she curls up in a chair and watches the storms grow in intensity. Rain begins to fall and hits the apartment roof with a ‘ _tink, tink, tink_ ’; it’s soothing and calm, and despite the insanity of the last 24 hours, Erin knows she’ll sleep like a rock tonight.

Erin closes her eyes and breaths slowly but evenly, allowing herself to get lost in the storm around her. She’s at the brink of sleep when she hears the sliding door of the balcony swish open. She opens her eyes and blinks a few times, her sight blurry from dozing. “Holtz?”

“That’s my name,” Holtzmann replies before grabbing a plastic lawn chair and pulling it next to where Erin sits.

Erin straightens a little in her seat and fixes the blanket that is haphazardly draped across her. “How are you feeling?”

Holtzmann shrugs.

“How’s your head?”

Holtzmann scrunches her face and brings her hand to the bandage on her forehead.

“Itchy.” She scratches at it a little, then winces.

“Hey!” Erin reaches forward and swats Holtzmann’s hand away. “Don’t scratch.”

In true fashion, Holtzmann blows a raspberry.

Just as mom-mode is about to kick into full gear, a particularly strong wave of thunder passes through with a ‘ _crash!_ ’ Erin jumps and grabs for Holtzmann’s hand, giving it a reflexive squeeze. Her heart is beating so fast, pounding in her throat, that she doesn’t even realize she’s holding it until Holtz gives a soft, quick squeeze back. Embarrassed, she pulls away.

“I’ve always loved the rain,” Holtzmann says, promptly changing the subject from the recent handholding.

“Oh really?” Erin smiles a little at the idea of them having something so simple in common.

“Well, I _think_ I do.”

There’s a beat, and Erin frowns. She opens her mouth to say something before Holtzmann bursts out laughing.

“That was a memory loss joke. Relax, Gilbert.” Holtzmann reaches out and ruffles Erin’s hair, which is slightly damp from the rain that has crept in the balcony with the wind.

Erin continues to scowl. “That wasn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry,” Holtzmann apologizes, and with the sad puppy dog eyes she’s giving, she looks genuinely sincere. “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry about it, right?” She chuckles breathily, but there’s a hint of sadness behind it.

Erin rings her hands in her lap. “This might be a loaded question, but what _do_ you remember? I know you said your memories are kind of like an outline. But, is everything that way? Or only _some_ things? Do you remember your childhood, or going to school, or your first job? Or-?” She’s speaking so fast and barely breathing but she’s not sure she’ll have the nerve otherwise to fully ask the questions she’s having.

“I remember my childhood. I remember a lot of things.” Holtzmann pauses and scrunches her forehead. “Recent things seem a little fuzzy. I know I’m a scientist. I remember teaching as a professor.”

Erin’s eyes grow wide. “You actually _taught_? I know you worked with Abby, but I didn’t know you-”

“Abby?” Holtzmann asks. Her eyebrows are raised questioningly.

Erin’s heart sinks. “You don’t remember Abby?”

Holtzmann chews at the inside of her mouth, and Erin swears she sees little tears brimming on Holtz’s eyes. It’s the rain, Erin tries to convince herself.

“Once you’re ready, I’ll bring you in to meet the whole team,” Erin assures, patting Holtzmann’s hand, which, in turn, elicits a small smile from the engineer. “They love you _almost_ as much as I do.” It’s an innocent enough comment, could be considered friendly in some circles, but it comes out of Erin’s mouth like word vomit, and she instantly regrets it. As if Holtzmann hasn’t been through enough in the last day, all she needs is a confession of love by someone she barely remembers to be the icing on the cake.

Instead, Holtzmann only smiles wider, and Erin is convinced she sees a tiny blush creep on her cheeks. It only makes her heart beat more wildly in her chest.

The rain subsides and the night air grows chilly. Despite being under a blanket, Erin is chilly, but Holtzmann’s tiny shiver solidifies the need to go back inside. Erin suggests a nice long shower – one that Holtz hasn’t had since before the accident – and she agrees with little objection. Together, they make their way down the hallway toward the bathroom. Erin reaches into the linen closet outside of the room and grabs a large, deep purple bath towel and a matching washcloth. Next, she steps into the bathroom, with Holtzmann only a few steps behind, and leaves the two items on the sink. “Well, here you go,” Erin says awkwardly, gesturing around the tiny bathroom. She clears her throat and walks toward the shower, giving the knob a little turn to let a stream of water pour of the faucet. It takes a moment for the water to heat up to an appropriate temperature, but once it seems satisfactory, she switches the tub over to the shower setting and waves Holtzmann toward it.

Erin stands there, still awkward as ever. “I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.” She laughs nervously and wipes at the back of her neck with her palm.

Holtzmann, without a hint of shyness, begins to undress, and it takes but a moment before Erin races out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell, closing the door behind a little too hard that it slams with a ‘ _thud!_ ’

**-X-X-X-X-**

Erin fidgets on the couch, clicking through an endless array of channels with her remote, but not really paying attention to what’s on the screen. She’s more interested in the woman currently showering in her bathroom and the particular way her presence causes her heart to burst out of her chest. ‘ _That can’t be healthy_ ,’ Erin thinks to herself, resting a hand over her heart and feeling the steady ‘ _thump, thump, thump_ ’ beneath it.

After three full rounds of scrolling through the TV channel guide, she finally selects a rerun of Chopped on the Food Network. She settles in the chair and tries to relax despite the thought of Holtzmann naked and sudsy. Her imagination, Erin finds, is particularly active.

Amongst the ingredients and techniques and contestants, Erin hears Holtzmann call her name from down the hallway. Like a gazelle, she gallops, bursting open the door without a second thought. “What? What’s wrong?” Erin asks, breathless, looking back and forth around the bathroom for Holtzmann.

She’s pleasantly surprised, however, to find the woman sitting on the closed toilet seat, wrapped in the towel Erin had given her. Her blonde hair is damp and brown from the shower and falls in waves down her neck and against her shoulders. Water trickles down the ends of her hair and across her chest; Erin catches herself staring and promptly looks away. “Wh-what’s wrong?” she repeats, looking down at her feet.

“My head,” Holtzmann says simply, pointing toward it. “Can you re-bandage it?”

It’s in that moment that Erin first notices the wound that spreads across Holtz’s upper forehead. Without a bandage, it looks particularly nasty and deep, light red and swollen around the edges while a darker, almost black-ish red in the center at the deepest point. “Of course,” Erin finally responds, reaching into the medicine cabinet for her first aid kit. Carefully, she takes out an alcohol swab, ointment and some fresh gauze, then turns to Holtzmann. “Ready?”

Holtzmann nods.

With the utmost care, Erin opens the alcohol pad and brings it to Holtz’s forehead. “This is probably going to hurt,” she warns. She waits a moment for Holtzmann to protest – or say anything for that matter – but she doesn’t.

Erin barely brushes the alcohol pad against Holtz’s forehead before she sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth and winces.

Erin frowns. “Are you ok?”

“Mmmmmhm,” Holtzmann replies, pained. She swallows slowly and, through her pain, watches Erin intently. Erin, on the other hand, is so focused on tending to the wound that she doesn’t even notice Holtz’s gazing. She’s quick yet gentle, her fingers working swiftly to clean and cover Holtzmann’s forehead. It only takes a few minutes for Erin to complete her work.

“There, good as new,” Erin says with a smile. She lets her fingertips trace across Jillian’s forehead down to the few burns peppered across her cheek and neck. The skin there is hot and raw, and Erin is careful to trace around it.

Erin’s not sure whether it’s the steaminess of the bathroom or the insurmountable spark of electricity between them, but the only thing she can think about is Holtzmann’s soft, pink lips and the way she so desperately wants to kiss them.

“Erin?” Holtzmann whispers, never breaking eye contact.

“Yes?” Erin steps a little closer, brushing her fingertips across Holtz’s lips.

“I’m starving. Got anything to eat?”

Erin laughs so hard she snorts.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“I’m sorry this is so dismal,” Erin apologizes, carrying a paper plate into the living room where Holtzmann is sprawled across the couch. “I’ll go shopping in the morning, but hopefully this will carry you over for now.” She hands the assortment of snacks over to Holtz, now dressed in one of Erin’s t-shirts and sweats, who sits up and looks down at what’s been placed in front of her, then over to the television, which now shows yet another rerun of Chopped. One chef, in particular, has made a grand dessert of chocolate mousse cake with a fresh raspberry sauce and homemade mint ice cream. It’s a far cry from the wrinkly grapes, American cheese and slightly stale crackers on her plate, but Holtzmann doesn’t complain. She thanks Erin with a smile and munches on the cheese.

Erin returns to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of iced tea. She sips on it slowly, savoring its cool, lemony taste, before making her way back into the living room. Holtzmann is intently watching the show, a cracker half out of her mouth as she waits in anticipation for the winner to be announced. The sight makes Erin laugh. “Who do you want to win?” Erin asks, her weak attempt at small talk. She sits down next to Holtzmann.

“Chef Plaisance,” Holtz responds, her eyes glued to the screen. “The French are always the best cooks. And good in bed.”

Erin almost chokes on her iced tea. Holtzmann simply winks at her before turning her head back toward the television.

“You know this from experience then?” Erin asks, trying her best to play it cool. The way her voice cracks slightly, however, doesn’t help matters.

“Sorry, can’t remember,” Holtzmann teases, tapping the top of her head with her index finger.

When Chef Plaisance wins by what appears to be a landslide – the judges have nothing by praise for all three of her dishes – Holtzmann celebrates with a cheer. “Knew she’d win,” she says, quite proud of herself.

When the episode is over, Erin attempts to change the channel, but when she sees Holtzmann’s pout out of the corner of her eye, she puts the remote down and lets the Chopped marathon continue. She pretends to ignore the way Holtz’s eyes light up when the next episode starts, but something about it causes her whole body to prickle with warmth. It’s a comforting warmth – not the heat of passion, but the enveloping warmth of something softer, sweeter; it’s a warmth, Erin decides, that she could get _very_ used to.


	6. Chapter 6

She doesn’t quite remember when they fall asleep. One episode of Chopped turns into two, which turns into four, and before Erin knows it, the ingredients and meals and contestants are one big blur. Her eyes grow heavy, and despite her trying to fight it, her head hits the pillow on the armrest of the sofa.

Erin sleeps like a rock. With the stress of the last two days, her body aches with exhaustion, and she doesn’t fight the fatigue as she traditionally does. She sleeps hard and dreamlessly in the corner of the sofa.

A soft, orange sunrise peeks through the window curtains. It tickles Erin’s face and, groggily, she rubs her eyes and yawns. Eyes slightly blurry, she sits up, only to stop when she notices a mop of curly blonde hair in her lap and a petite scientist curled against her legs. Erin blinks a few times, making sure what she’s seeing isn’t just a cruel dream. Carefully, she reaches out and brushes her fingers through the blonde tresses that tickle her legs. Holtzmann snores softly and evenly, a little trickle of drool dripping down her cheek onto Erin’s knee.

Like a good physicist, Erin studies. She studies the way Holtzmann’s eyelashes flutter while she sleeps. She studies the way her fingertips twitch as they rest on her outer thigh. She studies, and learns, and memorizes.

It doesn’t take long before Holtzmann wakes. She groans, loudly, and stretches, almost hitting Erin in the face; Erin, thankfully, swerves her head and chuckles softly. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she teases with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

Holtzmann grunts. “Words. Nope. Coffee.” She makes grabby hands towards the kitchen and squints.

Erin rolls her eyes and makes her way to the kitchen counter where the coffee maker sits. Wordlessly, she makes a pot of coffee – French Roast – and pours two cups, topping each off with a small bit of Irish creamer. She stirs and blows on the top of one mug before taking a sip. “If you want some,” Erin says between sips, “then you’re going to have to come over here and get it.”

That elicits yet another groan from the cranky engineer. Holtzmann makes sure to play it up, dragging her feet as slowly and loudly as she possibly can across the hardwood floor of the apartment. “I’m wounded. Hurt. Helpless. And you’re making me get my _own_ coffee.” She carefully picks up the hot mug and brings it to her lips, drinking slowly.

“You’re not helpless,” Erin corrects.

Holtz shrugs.

“Do you think you’re up to going out today?” Erin tries to act inconspicuous as her eyes wander over the bandage on Holtzmann’s forehead. Thankfully, it’s still bright white; if there’s been any bleeding overnight, it’s minimal.

“I have a little bit of a headache,” Holtz confesses. She gulps down half the cup of coffee – despite it being hot enough to _severely_ burn the average person, but Erin realizes, Holtzmann is _anything_ but average – and adds, “But I should be fine.”

Erin looks at her with _that_ look – that mom look that she knows Holtzmann hates –but she just can’t help but feel concerned.

As if she senses Erin’s about to chastise her, Holtzmann sets her coffee mug down on the table and shuffles out of the kitchen toward the guest bedroom. “I’m grabbing something to wear from your closet!” she calls from the hallway.

A few moments of silence bounce through the apartment, only to be interrupted by Holtzmann shouting, “Were you involved in some type of pant suit heist against your will that I’ve forgotten, or did you willingly buy all of these?”

**-X-X-X-X-**

It’s just after 11am when Erin and Jillian make their way into Trader Joe’s. They’ve barely walked through the sliding glass doors of the grocery store when Holtzmann rushes toward the collection of shopping carts and grabs one, riding it down the entryway with a ‘ _wheee!_ ’ toward where Erin stands, slightly mortified.

“Can we get Pringles?” Holtzmann asks as they start down the snack aisle. “They’re my favorite.”

“You clearly remember the _important_ things,” Erin teases.

Holtzmann winks and shoots finger guns back at her.

They slowly make their way through the grocery store, Erin filling the cart with an assortment of her favorite health foods – organic strawberries, flax seed, granola, plain greek yogurt – while Holtzmann sneaks in a few items of her own – pita chips, Frosted Flakes and cinnamon applesauce. The way they maneuver through the aisles, crossing items off Erin’s list as each thing is acquired and laughing with one another, feels almost domestic. Something as simple and mundane as grocery shopping should not feel so right, so perfectly in _place_ , Erin thinks to herself.

After some time, they move toward the check out lines, their cart filled with mostly necessities and some treats (courtesy of Holtzmann’s quick fingers and Erin’s feigning ignorance). There’s a small line building, so they take their place in it and wait as the cashier slowly but surely cashes out the customers in front of them.

“Jillian Holtzmann?” An older woman with grey hair and kind brown eyes approaches the pair.

Erin and Holtzmann turn their heads in unison toward the stranger. Erin’s quite certain she’s never met the woman in front of them, and Holtzmann, although smiling politely, doesn’t appear to remember her either.

“We missed you at the collection yesterday!”

Erin opens her mouth to speak, to explain what’s gone on over the last 24 hours, but Holtzmann interrupts with her typical charm. The physicist blinks a few times as Holtz makes small chat with the older woman.

“Yeah, was a rough few days. But I’m alright now.” Holtzmann rubs the back of her neck with her palm, then gently scratches at the back of her head.

If the older woman notices the bandage on Holtz’s forehead, she doesn’t say a word about it. “Well, I’m very glad to hear that. Will we be seeing you on Thursday at Helping Hands?”

Erin looks down at the woman’s shopping cart, filled almost to the brim with an assortment of canned, packaged and boxed goods. Putting two and two together, she realizes that she’s clearly working with some sort of shelter.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Holtzmann grins, wide, her dimples prominent.

“Great! See you soon, Jillian. You and your friend have a great day!”

Holtzmann waves as the older woman exits the grocery store.

“You don’t have a clue who that was, do you,” Erin comments softly in Holtzmann’s ear.

Holtz shakes her head. “Not a clue. But apparently I’m helping her next Thursday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life workload has been a little overwhelming lately, so I apologize for the brevity, but hopefully more soon! Kudos and comments feed the author's soul :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jillian Holtzmann portrayed by EMMY-AWARD-WINNING ACTRESS KATE MCKINNON. WHAAA?! *YAYY*

Despite the accident and the terrible circumstances surrounding it, Holtzmann is desperate to return to the lab. Her memories of it are fuzzy, Erin soon learns, but that doesn’t stop Holtzmann from wanting to get her hands dirty once again. For days, she begs, and for days, Erin refuses.

Erin tries to make every excuse she can to prevent the engineer from going back, but she quickly finds herself running out of ideas. After much contemplation, Erin decides to invite Patty and Abby over to her apartment for a casual dinner, hoping that the social interaction will quell Holtzmann’s desperation to return to the scene of the crime. She’s not going to stop her forever, Erin realizes, but Holtzmann is reckless with a capital R on a normal day, so going into the lab with a still-healing head injury doesn’t exactly seem to be what the doctor ordered.

Erin’s putting the finishing touches on a cheese and veggie tray when Holtzmann shuffles – with a dramatic frown on her face - into the kitchen. She’s wearing a baby blue sweater and baggy black yoga pants. They haven’t had time to go back to Holtz’s apartment yet, and Holtzmann has had to resort to wearing the least offending of Erin’s outfits from the back of the guest room closet.

“Why the long face?” Erin asks, focused on adding more baby carrots to the food tray but still watching Holtzmann out of the corner of her eye.

“This sweater itches,” Holtzmann grumbles, scratching at her neck and arms dramatically.

“Then why are you wearing it?”

“Becaaaause,” Holtzmann drawls, “the only other one in there was _pink._ I’ve dealt so far with wearing your clothes but _pink_? I may be injured but I still have _morals_.”

Erin rolls her eyes. “Will you take this tray out to the living room?” Erin holds it out in Holtzmann’s direction, but she doesn’t respond, instead crossing her arms over her chest. “What _now_?”

“I thought we were having a snack tray.” Holtzmann pokes at the cauliflower and broccoli florets on the right corner and grimaces.

“There’s cheese on there.”

“Yeah, but it’s been tainted by…” Holtzmann waves towards the vegetable side of the tray.

Erin shakes her head and laughs softly. “You’re a child.”

“You love it,” Holtzmann quips, finally taking the tray and setting it carefully on the coffee table.

Holtzmann is right; Erin _does_ love it. Despite the way Holtz frustrates her sometimes – and oh lord, does she _frustrate_ her – their playful banter reminds Erin of the old days, before there were any injuries or lost memories or insecurities. How they would flirt and joke and laugh – god, how Erin misses hearing that _laugh_.

“Where are my favorite nerds?” a booming voice calls from the opposite end of the hall. Erin recognizes it anywhere, but Holtzmann clearly doesn’t, rushing from the living room to Erin’s side in the kitchen.

“Patty,” Erin mouths to Holtzmann, who nods slowly but stays glued to her side. “Just a minute!” Erin calls, keeping her focus on Holtz despite their new company. “Listen, if you feel uncomfortable at all tonight…” Erin takes her hands and squeezes. The last thing she wants to do is put any undue stress on the already overwhelmed engineer. “How about this. If you need to escape, hold my hand and squeeze my pinky finger. That way I’ll know you need an out without you needing to say anything to the group. At that point, I’ll come up with an excuse to get them to leave. Deal?”

Erin conjectures that Holtzmann’s bright, dimpled smile could light up an entire planet. “You’re a superstar,” she compliments.

For once, it’s Holtzmann who blushes.

When they enter the living room together, Erin’s arm gently curled around Holtzmann’s waist, Patty audibly gasps with excitement. “Holtzy!” she greets, rushing forward.

There’s barely enough time for Holtzmann to look to Erin, terrified, begging for help or _something_ , before she’s scooped up into a crushing hug, Patty holding her and squeezing her and spinning her. She’s shaking by the time the historian sets her feet back on the ground, and it does not go unnoticed by Erin, who swoops back in, wrapping her arm around Holtzmann’s waist yet again to stabilize her and mouthing “really?!” in Patty’s direction.

“Sorry baby,” Patty apologizes, reaching out to Holtzmann, who instinctively curls just a bit closer into Erin. “Force of habit. It’s how we’ve always said hello.”

Holtz smiles weakly and glances down at her own sockless toes.

“Where’s my girl?” Abby calls from the doorway. All heads turn to her, Holtzmann included, who Erin feels relax at the sight of her colleague; Erin exhales quietly in relief.

Abby barrels toward Holtzmann with Patty’s previous tenacity, but now, Erin has the time to quickly shake her head at Abby without Holtz noticing. Relief barely begins to describe what she feels when Abby puts the brakes on her intended bear hug and instead greets Holtzmann with a big smile and a warm handshake, which Holtz eagerly returns. “Hey, Jillian,” Abby greets, her voice calm and steady.

“Hi, Abby.”

Abby quickly glances at Erin, and they speak to each other on wavelength that doesn’t need words. They smile a little bit sadly at one another, then focus both of their attentions on Holtzmann, who shuffles uncomfortably. They’re all silent now, unsure exactly how to react, how to handle that their best friend, the brilliant scientific mind that is the backbone of their operation, doesn’t remember them, after all this time, all of their struggles and triumphs.

Holtzmann clears her throat and licks her lips before speaking. “Did you hear oxygen went on a date with potassium? It went OK.” Her eyes are wide as she scans the room, waiting for a reaction to what Erin decides is one of the most cringe-worthy science jokes around. Erin watches Holtzmann’s lips curl up in a little smile, proud as the room erupts into genuine laughter.

“Oh, Holtzy, baby, _never_ change.” Patty gives Holtzmann’s shoulder a squeeze, and this time, she doesn’t pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EVERYONE who has left comments and kudos :) They fuel the writing flame. As always, you can find me over on Tumblr at awomanontheverge!


	8. Chapter 8

It doesn’t take long for the group to settle into conversation, laughing and smiling at the small dinner table between bites of Erin’s homemade chicken parmesan. She doesn’t fancy herself much of a chef, but it’s one of the recipes her grandmother passed down to her, and over the course of their friendship, she’s learned that Abby loves everything Italian. Holtzmann does too, or at least the Holtzmann she remembers; tonight’s Holtzmann, however, picks at the poultry and red sauce with her fork but barely eats.

“Taste ok?” Erin whispers to her while Abby and Patty argue across the table about whether Ghost Abraham Lincoln or Ghost George Washington would win in spiritual combat.

“Mmm, mmhm,” Holtzmann responds quietly, nodding a little bit too vigorously to be sincere.

“He was a freaking vampire hunter. Need I say more!” Abby shakes her hands in Patty’s face.

Patty smacks her own forehead with her palm. “There are so many things wrong with that statement, I don’t even know where to begin. Do you get all your history from horror films with terrible CGI?”

“I’ll have you know I read the book _first_ ,” Abby scoffs.

“Remember that time we had a bust at the American Museum of Natural History?” Erin recalls, smiling. They’d been invited there by the Director of Operations who was convinced that the entire Hall of Biodiversity was haunted. It didn’t end up being a particularly complicated bust; in fact, the greatest memories weren’t from the bust itself, but the way Patty had been a kid in a candy store, adding her own knowledge as they moved from exhibit to exhibit. Holtzmann had been particularly enamored by the Hall of the Universe, eagerly reading as much as she could about each formation, planet and galaxy.

“How could I forget?!” Patty’s smile is huge and her eyes twinkle at the memory of visiting one of her favorite historical locations and getting to capture the ghost of a disgruntled American Revolution general.

“I was hoping to have a chat with Teddy Roosevelt,” Abby recollects fondly.

Patty rolls her eyes. “Let me guess, Night at the Museum?”

Abby stuffs two large forkfuls of chicken in her mouth. “I plead the fifth.”

Suddenly, they’re all laughing loudly, their faces red and their eyes wet from joyful tears.

Everyone except Holtzmann, who smiles politely, then laughs awkwardly before continuing to play with her food.

Patty, Abby and Erin continue to reminisce, joking and teasing one another about their museum bust, as well as a multitude of other busts that have occurred over the last year. It isn’t until Erin feels a tiny hand sneak next to her and squeeze her left pinky that her attention snaps away. A wave of guilt washes over her, realizing she’s been ignoring Holtz for almost an hour, and she looks apologetically at the engineer, who smiles shyly at her but pleads desperately with her eyes.

Erin nods quickly – Holtz appears to be the only one to notice – and clears her throat. “Well, team, I think we better call it a night.”

Abby looks at her cell phone and wrinkles her forehead. “It’s barely after 8:30. What do you-“

Erin’s eyes bulge and her chin clenches.

After a moment, Abby nods, slowly, and turns to Patty. “Patty, didn’t we have that really important thing that we had to do tonight back at the lab?”

“Super important. _Monumentally_ so.” They all stand slowly from their chairs, tossing their crumpled white napkins onto their plates. Erin, Patty and Abby smile at each other knowingly with a tinge of sadness but mostly love and concern from their fellow Ghostbuster. “It’s really good seeing you, Holtz,” Abby says warmly, stepping around the dining table to give her a gentle hug.

Patty follows suit, embracing her friend and giving her a friendly kiss on the top of her head. “We love you, Holtzy.” Her voice is a little shaky as she pulls away. “See you soon?”

Holtzmann smiles; it’s the most genuine one she’s flashed all night. “Erin can only keep me away from the lab for so long. Don’t worry.” She winks. “Soon I’ll be back and you’ll be desperate for me to leave you guys alone.”

Abby laughs and shakes her head. “I wouldn’t count on that. Take care, sweetie.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Once Abby and Patty have left, Holtzmann complains that her head is bothering her and that she’s going to bed early. Despite her concern, Erin wishes Holtz sweet dreams, watching the engineer until she disappears from view and the soft “click” of the guest bedroom door signals her departure.

Erin had forgotten just how exhausting entertaining could be. Paired with the constant feeling of being on-edge with Holtzmann, she can barely keep her eyes open despite the fact that it isn’t even 9pm. With a heavy sigh, Erin gathers the used dishes from the table and loads the dishwasher, every fork, knife, pot and pan in its perfect place on the top and bottom racks. She finds herself in a cleaning haze, Cloroxing and sweeping the entire kitchen and dining room. It isn’t until she’s emptying the dustpan into the garbage can for the third time that she realizes it’s now almost 11pm and most _definitely_ time for bed.

With her Memory Foam mattress calling for her like a siren to Odysseus, she trudges down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Before she can turn the doorknob, Erin stops on her heels, drawn to the sound of faint crying across the hallway. “Holtz?” Erin asks quietly, peeking into the guest bedroom.

“E-Erin,” Holtzmann heaves. The breath in her throat catches and she coughs a little before erupting into another set of sobs.

Erin doesn’t know how to react, but this time, she won’t stand there frozen. She rushes to Holtzmann’s side and pulls her close, tears immediately trickling down her chest and staining her blouse as Holtzmann buries her face against her neck and shoulder. “Talk to me,” Erin encourages. Her hands shake as they hover over Holtzmann’s head, desperately wanting to run her fingers through blonde curls and soothe her, but fearful even the slightest additional touch could cause the beautiful woman against her to break.

“I-I-I” The words burn, stuck in Holtzmann’s lungs and mouth.

“Take your time. I’m here.” Instinctively, Erin rocks her in her arms, something Abby has done for her so many times in her past when the world was too much and the panic came crashing down.

“Wi-will I ever remember?” Holtzmann hiccups. She looks up at Erin, tears dripping down her cheeks.

Erin shushes her, rubbing her back in little soothing circles.

She doesn’t have the answers. Erin would give every degree, every accolade, every prestigious position and worldly possession to help Holtzmann remember. But Holtzmann isn’t wired like the rest of the world, and it will take more than a weak battery jump to kick-start this beautifully brilliant mind.

After a few minutes, Holtzmann’s breathing steadies and she feels heavier against Erin’s chest. Faint snoring vibrates against Erin’s sternum and signals that, even if it’s only for the night, Holtzmann is at peace.


	9. Chapter 9

Even without an alarm, Erin wakes up at her usual 6:00am. Holtzmann sleeps peacefully on the pillow next to her with a wild mane of curls covering her face. She looks like a lioness, and if Erin weren’t afraid that it would wake her, she’d run her fingers soothingly through the tangled waves. Instead, she gazes lovingly for a few moments before carefully tiptoeing out of the bed, down the hallway and, finally, toward the kitchen.

Following routine, Erin starts a pot of coffee. During the last few days, they’ve tried to slowly fade back into some normalcy, and while Erin’s not exactly sure what the standard method to Holtzmann’s madness was before the accident, helping her get onto some type of schedule will at least keep her safe and comfortable.

“Hey.” Holtzmann shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes groggily. Her voice is hoarse with sleep, and Erin definitely doesn’t think the husky tone is _super hot_. Definitely not.

“Hi.” Erin walks over to the kitchen entryway and stops in front of Holtzmann, smiling warmly at her. The air between them is quiet and timid; Erin’s not exactly sure whether she should bring up their very emotional night, so, instead, she pulls the engineer into a silent hug and rubs her back slowly. Although Erin knows Holtzmann isn’t typically one for standard displays of affection, Holtzmann doesn’t fight, resting her face against the nape of Erin’s neck. Erin can feel her steady breathing against her skin, hot and prickly, sending shockwaves to all the right places.

“Erin?” Holtzmann mumbles.

“Yes?”

“You’re hugging the brains out of my head. I think they might be oozing out of my ears.”

Erin pulls away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Holtzmann waves her hand dismissively. “No worries. What’s for breakfast?”

“Depends. What are you in the mood for?”

With a wide grin on her face, Holtzmann waggles her eyebrows and shoots finger guns in the physicist’s direction.

Ignoring her, Erin pokes her head into the refrigerator. “What about…a veggie omelette?”

Holtzmann promptly scrunches up her nose in disgust. “Too healthy.”

“Aaalrighty. French toast, then?”

When Holtzmann’s eyes light up, Erin knows she’s given the right suggestion.

They prepare breakfast together, smiling and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company. Holtzmann whisks the eggs and creates the perfect wash, while Erin prepares the bread, slicing each piece into three even strips. A breakfast assembly line quickly forms, and it’s not long before the entire kitchen is filled with the sweet smell of vanilla French toast.

In quiet, comfortable silence, they enjoy their breakfast at the kitchen table. Holtzmann crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out, which promptly makes Erin laugh. Occasionally, Holtz stops eating to simply smile at her; Erin, without hesitation, smiles back. Something about their silent interaction feels casual and cozy, as though this was something they’ve done all their lives. Traditionally, domesticity scares the crap out of Erin, but this – Holtzmann making goo goo eyes at her while she nibbles on the last piece of her French toast – feels like Erin’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

**-X-X-X-X-**

After continuous whining and begging on Holtzmann’s part, Erin finally decides to let the engineer return to work with her, even if it’s only for an hour or so to get reacquainted with the lab. Erin’s a nervous wreck as they approach the large, red front doors of the station. “We could spend the day at the park. Or we could go shopping. Shopping is relaxing. Shopping is harmless and won’t-“

“Erin.” Holtzmann’s voice is stern despite the way she’s bouncing back and forth from foot to foot excitedly.

Erin sighs, nodding her head slowly, and steps inside. Abby and Patty wait anxiously in the center of the first level – she’d given them the heads up they were coming, along with explicit instructions not to do anything to rile Holtzmann up – and Erin’s barely taken three steps forward before Holtz rushes into the space, arms stretched over her head, spinning on her heels to take in every color, every smell, every sight so she will never, _ever_ forget it again.

“Why don’t we go-“

“Upstairs. My lab is upstairs, right?”

Erin can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face at Holtz’s correct memory. “Yes, it’s upstairs. I was going to suggest we start with-“ She doesn’t get the chance to finish before the blonde ball of energy races up the stairs, stomping up two stairs with each stride.

Erin stays at the bottom of the staircase, holding her breath. Holtzmann is an adult, Erin tries to remind herself. She can handle this on her own. Keep nearby but give her some space.

Erin’s hand shakes as it rests on the railing. She watches the top of the staircase and listens for some sort of sign – a laugh, a scream, _anything_. When a few minutes pass and still nothing, Erin jogs upward – god, have there _always_ been this many stairs? – and rounds the corner to see Holtzmann, standing, frozen just a few steps beyond the doorway.

“Holtzmann?” Erin calls softly, trying not to startle her.

“I’m sorry,” Holtzmann says, breathily, still unmoving, still facing away from Erin. “I thought I could do it, I _wanted_ to do it, but….”

Erin moves forward, resting her hand on the small of Holtzmann’s back. “It’s ok. _You’re_ ok.”

“Am I?” Holtzmann finally turns to her, her face filled with anger and a tinge of fear. Holtz’s blue eyes seem positively icy in contrast to the deep red of her cheeks.

“You’re stronger than you think.” Erin rests her hand on Holtz’s shoulder. “How about we go in there together?”

With her head bowed, Holtzmann tries to hide the tears that betray her as they slide down to the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry, Erin.” It comes out a strangled whimper, so scared and shaky, so _unlike_ Holtz.

Like a hurricane, Holtzmann’s gone before Erin knows what hit her, the loud slam of the front doors bellowing through the firehouse like a deep, devastating groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make the author smile :)


	10. Chapter 10

Catlike reflexes would not be something Erin would describe herself as having, but instincts and adrenaline are marvelous things that cause Erin to sprint down the staircase, three at a time, trying to catch an angry Holtzmann as she swiftly makes her way out the front door. In her worry and haste, Erin struggles with the door handle, pulling and pushing several times before the door opens with a ‘ _whoosh_ ’ of brisk New York air.

“Holtzmann!” Erin catches a glimpse of blonde, frizzy waves at the end of the alleyway. “Jillian, _please_!” Somewhere, deep down, Erin hopes that the use of Holtzmann’s first name will suddenly startle her into at least _looking_ at her.

Erin holds her breath, waiting for Holtzmann to turn around and come back like she’s seen in so many romantic comedies. But there’s nothing funny about watching Holtzmann run away, jogging out of sight without even a quick glance over her shoulder.

It’s Erin’s turn now to be emotional. Slumped at the waist, she rests her palms on her knees and squeezes her eyes shut, letting tears fall across her wind-burned cheeks. She feels small and hopeless, like everything she has tried to do for their team and for Holtzmann has just been a colossal waste. Deep inside, Erin knows she shouldn’t mope and that she has it exponentially better than so many others, Holtzmann included, but she can’t help but feel sorry for herself and the predicament the entire team has found itself in. Standing in the middle of the dark, dusty alleyway, Erin lets herself cry the tears she hasn’t willed herself to since Holtzmann’s accident. She cries for what is and what was and what may never be again.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“Have you heard from her?” Abby asks Erin on her way out for the evening.

Erin shakes her head. “No, I’ve tried calling and texting her. I called her apartment building and they said they haven’t seen her either.” Erin sighs. “The only places I know she goes are here and her apartment…I even tried to login to Find My Phone but couldn’t figure out her password.”

Abby frowns. “In _any_ other circumstance, that would be super creepy, but I know you’re just looking out for her.”

“What if something happens to her?” Erin’s voice cracks slightly. “She gets headaches – really _bad_ headaches. Sometimes she gets confused. What if she’s alone and she’s in pain and there’s no one to help her? I’ll never forgive myself.” Erin buries her face in her hands. “I should never have let her come here. She’d just been so insistent that she was ready, that she could handle it. I should have known better…”

“Listen,” Abby begins, rubbing Erin’s back gently, “Holtz is an adult. She will be ok. Sometimes she just has to escape for awhile. We’ll keep an eye out for her and ask around, but as someone who has known her for quite some time – she’ll be back. I promise.”

“It’s not about her _leaving_ ,” Erin hisses, sitting up straight and turning to look Abby in the eye, “I’m worried about her injury. I know she’s an adult. I know she can take care of herself. And fucking _Christ_ , I know we aren’t together and I’m not her keeper or her _girlfriend_ or whatever, but…” Erin sighs loudly, her shoulders slumping as she does so. “I just worry, ok?”

Abby smiles in a way that makes Erin’s blood boil for no justifiable reason. Irritated, Erin grabs her phone and her purse from her desk and storms out of the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says sharply as she leaves the firehouse to head home for what she can only expect will be a sleepless night.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Restless doesn’t even begin to describe how Erin feels. She knows it’s bad when classic Simpsons reruns – her guilty pleasure – fail to elicit even a smile. Erin checks her phone obsessively, hoping to find a new voicemail or text message or something from Holtzmann, but much to her frustration, her iPhone notification screen stays empty.

“I’m sorry for bothering you again,” Erin texts. “I promise I’ll leave you be if you just let me know you’re ok and somewhere safe.” She presses the send button, then follows up with one more quick, simple message: “Please.”

Erin almost cries, her emotions continuing to get the best of her, when she sees the three bubbles jumping at the bottom left of the iMessage screen, signaling Holtzmann’s typing on the other end. Anxiety churns in the pit of her stomach, bubbling into Erin’s chest and throat and causing a sour taste to flood her mouth. With some difficulty, she swallows it down and lets out a shaky, shuddering breath until Holtzmann’s response comes through.

“I’m ok.”

Erin expected this to feel better, to give her more comfort and ease her nerves, but Holtzmann’s response only fires her up more. She’s irrationally furious at the way Holtz has abandoned her despite all she’s done. Erin knows how selfish it sounds; Holtzmann doesn’t owe her a single thing, but she can’t help but feel a bit betrayed by the engineer’s sudden absence.

Then something dawns on her. Erin’s not quite sure why it’s taken this long for her to think of it. With trembling hands and a heart pounding away a mile a minute in her chest, Erin quickly pulls up Google on her phone, searching for a particular address and making a mental note of it before rushing out of her apartment and into the busy New York City streets.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“She’s over there,” the older woman instructs Erin, pointing to the corner of the main gathering area of the shelter. Her eyes are kind and her smile is warm, just the same as Erin remembers from the grocery store, and she ushers Erin quietly into the living space. It’s late, the sun fully set and the moon prominent in the dark sky, and many people – children, parents, elderly men and women – line the cold, tile floor, wide smiles and sunny dispositions despite the circumstances of their visit.

Erin recognizes Holtz immediately, even with her back turned to her. The messy bun of curls pinned to the top of her head bounce around as she plays a spirited game of Candyland with a young girl, barely over the age of six by the look of her. She’s missing her two front teeth and her tongue pokes adorably through the empty space as she speaks, a high pitched whistle accompanying each of her ‘ _s’_ s.

“Miss Holtzmann, can you read my card for me?” The young girl carefully picks a card from the deck and hands it over, face down, toward Holtzmann.

“Emily, I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me that. Holtz or Jillian is fine.”

The sound of Holtzmann’s voice instantly puts a huge smile on Erin’s face. She holds her breath and stays several paces behind her, simply watching and listening.

“My mom says it’s not polite to call grown-ups by their first names,” Emily explains. She blinks up at Holtzmann a few times, waiting for her to read the card.

“Well, what do you know!” Holtzmann says excitedly, waving her arms and card in the air. “This card says you can move all the way to Candy Castle! You win!!”

Truth be told, Erin is a pro when it comes to board games. As a child, she’d played each and every one until the copies she owned were falling hopelessly apart. Even though she hasn’t played in years, Erin knows there’s no such card that lets someone jump all the way to the finish line from halfway across the board, but Erin understands Holtzmann’s intention as she watches the little girl’s reaction from across the room.

“Really?!” Emily squeals with delight, grabbing her game piece and tapping it forward at least a dozen spaces to the last spot on the board. “I win!!!”

Holtzmann high fives her loudly and pumps her fists in the air.

“She’s really amazing with the kids,” the older woman – Mrs. Hartville, Erin soon learns – compliments, pulling Erin out of the daydream she’s fallen into watching Holtzmann interact with Emily.

“How long has she come here?” Erin asks, turning away from Holtz’s direction to face Mrs. Hartville.

“Years. She comes here more since you all moved into the firehouse. It was almost an hour commute for her before, but she still managed to come at least once a week despite that. That’s how I knew something was wrong when she didn’t show up for the collection.” Mrs. Hartville crosses her arms over her chest and looks over at Holtzmann with a sad smile. “She hasn’t said much beyond the very basics. I’ve tried not to pressure her. She rushed in here earlier today and asked if she could stay for a bit, and I told her she didn’t even need to ask. She’s considered family here.”

Erin simply nods slowly.

“I can tell her you were here,” Mrs. Hartville suggests, looking back at Erin. “I may be an old woman, but from what I can tell, you mean a lot to her, and I know she doesn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s ok, really. I’m just glad she’s safe.” Even with the anger she’d felt previously, Erin knows deep in her bones that it’s the truth. “When she’s ready to come home, I’ll be there.” With a sad smile, she adds, “Please make sure she knows that.”

Mrs. Hartville takes Erin’s hand in hers and gives it a tiny squeeze. “I will, Erin, dear. I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile :)
> 
> Come say hi and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Tumblr: awomanontheverge  
> Twitter: @pattilupwned


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So life has been crazypants! I've been adulting hardcore lately and bought a house! Adulting sucks, and that makes writing hard sometimes, but rest assured I am still dedicated to finishing this baby :) Enjoy!

“Earth to Erin,” Abby calls, snapping her fingers in front of Erin’s face.

“Hmmm?” Erin practically gives herself whiplash as she looks up at the woman hovering over her desk.

Abby sighs and shakes her head. “You’re a mess. She’s _fine_ , Erin. You saw her.”

“That was over two weeks ago. I guess I just expected her to come home by now.” Erin slumps in her seat.

Guilty. It’s the only way Erin can describe how she feels. Holtzmann was put in _her_ care. She was staying under _her_ roof. It was up to _her_ to heal Holtz - to guide her and get her back to her usual self. She was supposed to protect Holtzmann, and she couldn’t even do _that._ Instead, she’s sleeping in a homeless shelter, away from work and her friends, possibly in pain from her injury.

Erin bites hard on her lower lip to hold back tears. Her nose tingles, the wave of emotion hard to fully stifle, but she manages to keep her cool – _mostly_.

“She asked me not to,” Abby begins, stepping around Erin’s wood-stained desk to be next to her. “But I can’t take you moping around any more. You look like shit.”

Erin turns her head and looks toward Abby. “You’re sweet.”

“It’s the truth. When was the last time you slept?”

Erin waves her hand dismissively. “What did Holtzmann ask you not to do?”

“She’s not staying at the shelter.”

The phrase ‘hit someone like a ton of bricks’ is the ultimate cliché, and Erin’s always hated it, but Abby’s words – matter-of-fact as they are – hit her so hard, so intense, that Erin momentarily forgets to breathe. Abby continues talking, but Erin barely hears it, the world fading out to a buzz.

When the heartbeat in her ears becomes less deafening, Erin hears the buzzwords in Abby’s sentences.

Apartment.

Safe.

_Key._

Abby grabs her hand and places a cold piece of metal against her palm. “She’s going to be pissed at me, but whatever. I can’t see you like this. You’re my best friend.” Abby folds Erin’s hand up into a fist, then gives it a squeeze. “I love you both. I just want what is best for the _both_ of you.”

Erin bites on her lip again, but this time the tears don’t hold back. Abby pulls her into a crushing hug and rubs her back.

“I don’t think she’s ready to come back here yet,” Abby whispers, “but maybe if you bring what she’s missing _to_ her, she’ll find her way.”

Erin squeezes Abby back and buries her face against her best friend’s shoulder, letting her tears escalate into a sob and, eventually, a muffled ‘ _thank you’_.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Finding the perfect project to bring to Holtzmann’s apartment is like finding a needle in a haystack. Her corner of the lab is covered in a mountain of paperwork, blueprints, old Doritos wrappers and a cacophony of wires and tools Erin can barely name. Despite the chaos, she knows that everything is truly in its place and that Holtzmann will absolutely notice if anything has been tampered with when she returns.

 _If_ she returns.

Erin sighs and continues fumbling through a pile of blueprints in the corner of Holtzmann’s desk. It doesn’t take long before a particular set stands out above the others. The edges of the thick blue and white paper are singed and torn; the distinct smell of smoke is faint but still present.

She stands there for a moment, running her fingertips over the blueprints. Erin’s never considered herself an engineer of any kind, and reading blueprints is certainly not her forte. She makes out some of the basic details, but nothing more than that. However, the burnt corners signal that whatever this is, it’s what Holtzmann was working on before her accident.

Erin determines this could go one of two ways. She could take the blueprints and whatever materials she can gather in a duffel bag and bring them to Holtzmann’s apartment, and Holtzmann could start working again and slowly get her confidence back. The other possibility – the more likely one – is that whatever this is could bring back a whole wave of fear and panic that will only perpetuate the cycle of trauma.

And Erin would never be able to forgive herself. _Again_.

She grabs the blueprints but leaves the materials – a compromise. With the rolled paper tucked underneath her arm, Erin leaves the firehouse to begin her trek to Holtzmann’s apartment.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Erin isn’t quite sure what she’d expected Holtzmann’s apartment to be like. In one daydream, she’d imagined the two of them together there. Although she’d never been there herself, Erin could picture all of it: the clothes strewn across various pieces of furniture, the discarded Chinese containers stacked up on the kitchen counter. To top it off, Erin decides, there’s a variety of scientific studies and history books about the paranormal on a bookshelf in the corner. The walls are painted bright blue with an electric yellow accent wall, and it’s so perfectly chaotic – so perfectly Holtz.

At least, that’s what Erin’s imagined. So when she enters with the key Abby gave her, she’s shocked – pleasantly or disappointedly so, Erin can’t be sure. The walls are far from colorful; instead, they’re the standard NYC eggshell white, with the occasional chipped paint across the trim. The apartment is surprisingly clean and tidy – no clothes or rotting food to be found. The entire at-home persona Erin had come up with in her head is totally off-base, and she wonders how much she truly knows her coworker – her friend _,_ her… _whatever_.

The sound of rustling in the corner startles Erin, who lets out an uncontrollable yelp in response. “Holtz, I’m so sorry, I-“ Erin turns, slowly, grasping her chest as her heart pounds with a mixture of fear and excitement. When she finally sees who – or what – is behind her, she can’t help but laugh.

A grey-ish white cat walks hesitantly in her direction, looking at Erin with crystal-blue eyes that eerily match its owner’s. It’s fat and clearly well-fed, which makes Erin feel even better about the entire situation. Holtzmann’s been here and she is _safe_.

“Come here, baby,” Erin coos. With her arms stretched out, she moves to a squat-like position. “I didn’t even know you were here. I didn’t even know Holtz had…” When the cat is close enough to her, she gently pets the top of its head, trying to gain its trust without smothering. A moment later, Shiloh – as Erin learns from the tags around the cat’s neck – curls up in her lap, forcing Erin to sit cross-legged in the middle of the beige-carpeted floor.

“Have you been taking good care of your mama?” Erin asks, running her hand up and down Shiloh’s fur. “She needs you now more than ever, ya know.” She scratches just below Shiloh’s chin, which immediately elicits a purr in response. “I need her too. I’ve been thinking this whole time how much she needs me – us – but the truth is…we all need _her._ ”

For awhile, Erin just sits there, content with Shiloh and relaxed by the steady purring in her arms. They wait, just the two of them, for Holtzmann to come home. As the time passes, Erin tries to come up with some type of speech about how amazing Holtzmann is, that she only wants what’s best for her and to see that she’s ok, that she won’t press her to do anything she’s not comfortable doing….there are so many things Erin wants to say, wants to _confess_ , but she finds that coming up with the exact words to express all of it are…difficult to say the least.

With a very heavy sigh, Erin carefully moves Shiloh from her lap. “Tell your mom that I…” She clears her throat. “Well, I care about her a _whole lot_ , ok?”

Shiloh meows in response.

Erin smiles, then stands. She carefully situates the blueprint on a nearby coffee table, making sure Holtzmann will see it when she walks in the door. Erin looks around for a spare piece of paper or a post-it – _something_ she can leave a note on so Holtzmann knows she’s been here. After a moment of searching, she settles on an old, half-ripped envelope and a bright blue sharpie marker.

Despite having over an hour to come up with something to say, Erin’s at a loss for words. She quickly scribbles a few words down, hoping they’ll be enough.

It’ll never be enough, Erin knows. She could write a series of novels about how she feels about Holtzmann. She could describe every beautiful, strong, amazing thing about her, and no one would even have an inkling of an idea of how Holtzmann makes her feel. She could go on forever, but it would _never_ be enough.

“Bye, Shiloh,” Erin whispers. Quietly and carefully, she closes and locks the apartment door. As she makes her way down the long apartment staircase, Erin swears she smells the distinctive scent of Holtzmann’s perfume as someone walks past her in the opposite direction. There’s a flash of long blonde waves in the corner of her eye, but she bites her tongue and keeps her head down.

Today’s not the day, and now is not the time. But one day, hopefully soon, it will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile and inspire more :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long overdue....

**Erin's dress:**  
  


**-X-X-X-X-**

Getting back to the normal routine proves more difficult than Erin had expected it to be. Thoughts of Holtzmann seem to consume her every waking moment. She tries to hide it, of course, but Abby and Patty see right through the façade. Still, the team is already down one Ghostbuster in Holtzmann’s absence, so Erin – _begrudgingly_ – embraces her suit and proton gun once more.

The media is ruthless. It doesn’t take them long to notice that Holtzmann is no longer involved in any of their busts. Soon, newspapers and television stations are publishing fabricated stories with a variety of reasons for Holtzmann’s absence. Some are more outlandish than others, but they all piss Erin off to the point that Patty has to wrestle Erin’s iPad away from her during downtime in order to protect _all_ of their sanities.  

After her visit to Holtzman’s apartment, Erin stops calling or texting. Each ignored message hurts more than the last, and while she’s not giving up – will _never_ give up on Holtzmann - the silence is more deafening than she can take on a daily basis.

It’s around 2am and Erin’s just nodding off on the couch to a rerun of Cheers when her cell phone chimes loudly. Bleary eyed, Erin taps the green ‘ _answer_ ’ button and brings the device up to her ear.

“Mm’ello?” Erin rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and stretches.

There’s no voice on the other end of the call, but a bit of background noise and the faintest sound of steady breathing signals that _someone_ is there.

“Hello? Hellooo?”

Erin blinks a few times to clear her line of sight before pulling her iPhone from against her ear to look at her Caller ID. When she finally realizes who is on the other end, her anger melts away and she’s suddenly _wide awake_.

“Holtz? Is that you?”

Silence.

“Jillian?”

Erin is convinced she hears the faintest whimper, but before she’s able to say anything else, the call drops.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“What do you _mean_ you don’t know where she is?” Jennifer Lynch is fuming when the team arrives at the Mayoral Ball with one less Ghostbuster than originally invited. They'd been invited months ago and given their RSVPs well in advance, but with Holtzmann's accident and the total chaos afterward, Erin had completely forgotten about the event - that is, until Abby had shown up to her apartment with a gown, some lipstick and a pair of 4-inch heels. With Abby and Jennifer arguing in the background about Holtzmann's absence, Erin zones out, gazing through the glass of the building’s back door and looking – _searching_ – for a certain pair of yellow-tinted glasses and a mop of beautiful curly hair.

The night drags on agonizingly. Countless old men hit on Erin and step way too close for her comfort. One compliments the shimmering diamond necklace – on loan from Tiffany & Co for the evening’s festivities -  resting just above her chest, shimmering beneath the enormous chandelier in the middle of the ballroom. Truthfully, Erin knows it’s just an excuse to stare at her breasts, which she herself admits look amazing in the sleek, black gown she’s wearing. She imagines what Holtzmann would say – the way she’d compliment her in a roundabout way that wouldn’t _really_ be considered a compliment if it were coming from _anyone_ else. From Holtz’s lips, however, it’d be _everything_.

After her third encounter with the same politician – who is so drunk he forgets that they’ve already spoken several times – Erin decides to take a breather outside and get some fresh air. Surprisingly, it’s almost completely silent on the patio, and for one of only a few times in her life, she’s grateful to be alone. The steady rhythm of her heels echoes across the black, starry sky as Erin walks beneath a beautifully lit garden arbor.

Erin hardly considers herself a hopeless romantic. She doesn’t envy those women who get dozens of flowers or go on long walks through Central Park with their significant others. She doesn’t want someone to stand out her window with a boombox professing their love, and she _certainly_ doesn’t want to come home to a bottle of champagne and a trail of rose pedals. Tonight, however, Erin can’t help but imagine what it would be like to be here with Holtzmann – laughing, drinking, dancing. It’s selfish to want such things, Erin knows. An event like this would probably be overwhelming for Holtzmann, but in a perfect world on a perfect night, she’d be on the arm of a brilliant scientist. Instead, she’s standing outside – _alone_ – listening to a compilation of classical music as it trickles out from the ballroom.

Erin almost doesn’t hear her phone this time. It isn’t particularly loud outside, but the thoughts and daydreams swirling around Erin’s head distract her from reality. It isn’t until the third set of rings that she pulls her cell from the tiny pocket within her black and silver clutch. The area code belongs to a New York number, but Erin doesn’t recognize it; just as she’s about to toss her phone back into her purse, it rings once again, the same 718 area code blinking repeatedly across her screen.

“Whatever it is you’re selling,” Erin sighs, “I’m not interested.”

“Erin Gilbert?” The voice on the other end of the phone is deep and gravely; Erin guesses it belongs to a lifelong smoker.

“This is my personal line, not the number for the Ghostbusters. If you’re in need of our help, you can call our office at-“

“I’m Officer Timothy Garza with the New York Police Department. I’m here with Miss Jillian Holtzmann. Could you please come down to the station immediately?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!!! What's do _you_ think is going to happen? I love hearing from you all! Comments, as always, make the author smile. Happy Holtzbert week!


	13. Chapter 13

Erin bolts out of the Mayoral Ball like a bat out of hell. She says nothing to Patty or Abby, ignoring their worried expressions and shouts as she runs out the door, down the entrance staircase and into the busy New York City street. Like a pro, she hails a cab and hurriedly rushes into the backseat.

“Where to?”

“Police department.”

The driver looks at her via the rearview mirror and raises a thick, black eyebrow.

“Just drive, goddamn it,” Erin hisses.

As the cab moves forward and picks up speed – unusual for a Friday night in NYC – Erin rests her head against the window glass and watches the city race by in a blur of reds and yellows and blues. Guilt and terror churn in the pit of her stomach as she thinks of all the possible trouble Holtzmann has gotten herself into. The police hadn’t exactly said whether Holtz was ok, just that they needed Erin down at the station…Her anxiety starts to get the better of her, and she suddenly finds it very difficult to breathe in the cramped backseat of the taxi.

She’s only a few blocks away from the station when her cell phone rings and vibrates loudly from within her clutch. Initially, Erin grabs it frantically, worried that she may miss a call about Holtz. Instead, it’s a series of calls and texts from Patty and Abby, worried out of their skulls about where the hell she’s gone and why she ran out so fast; there’s a voicemail from Jennifer Lynch as well, no doubt to berate her for ducking out on her “political” duties for the night, but that’s an argument Erin decides she’ll save for a later date. Although she knows it’s going to cause even more panic among her friends and coworkers, Erin powers down her cell. Once the screen turns dark, she tosses it back into her clutch and turns back to the window, watching as the large, brightly lit police station comes into view.

Erin barely waits for the car to come to a complete stop jumping out. She hastily throws a wad of cash onto the backseat and mumbles a ‘ _thank you_ ’ to the driver under her breath before bounding up the station’s staircase, a not-so-easy feat in four-inch heels.

“Holtzmann. I’m here to see Jillian Holtzmann,” Erin shouts as she rushes into the entryway.

“Who?” The secretary at the welcome desk doesn’t even look up from the notepad she’s scribbling in.

“ _Holtz-mann_ ,” Erin says slowly and deliberately.

“Sign in over there at the clipboard and someone will meet you shortly.”

“Listen,” Erin barks, slamming her palms down. The diamond bracelet around her wrist taps against the wood and seems to get the attention of the deputy sheriff only a few feet away from where she’s standing. “I received a phone call less than half an hour ago that I needed to get down here immediately. Cut the bullshit and let me see her.” Erin’s eyes bulge. “ _Now_.”

“Erin Gilbert, right?” The deputy – whose badge says ‘ _Davidson_ ’ – walks over to where she’s about to have a coronary. Erin crosses her arms over her chest as she feels Davidson eyeing her up and down in her gown. “If you follow me, I’ll take you to Miss Holtzmann.”

Erin says nothing, but follows him down the long hallway to the back of the station. Eventually, they come to a series of cells; she quickly realizes they’re in the holding block by the way each detainee is in normal streetwear. It only takes a second for her to recognize who she’s come to see. When they come to a stop in front of a single-cell toward the end of the hallway, Holtzmann’s sitting on a bench inside with her knees pulled up to her chest. Nervously, she taps her foot, her untied laces clicking against the white-painted wood. Holtzmann seems slightly out of it as Erin approaches the bars, more focused on the dirty floor than the visitor at her cell door.

“What did she do?” Erin asks over her shoulder.

At the sound of Erin’s voice, Holtzmann looks up.

“We found her roaming around the city. She was digging around in dumpsters – foraging. When we confronted her, she seemed confused and wouldn’t answer our questions.” Davidson pauses. “Eventually, she just kept asking for you. We cuffed her and read her her rights, but she-“

“Wait,” Erin spins around to face the deputy, “what you’re telling me is she appeared confused and possibly hurt and yet you felt it was necessary to _cuff_ and _jail_ her?”

“Ma’am, I-“

“You will let her out of here immediately, or I can promise you that you are going to severely regret it.” Erin’s practically shaking with anger.

“We don’t take kindly to threats, Miss Gilbert-“

“I’m fairly certain the Mayor of New York won’t take _kindly_ to one of his prized employees – who _protects_ your ass every damned day – being improperly detained and jailed.”

“Erin…” Holtzmann’s voice is soft and calm behind her, and Erin immediately turns back to her.

“Holtz, are you ok?” Erin slides her arm between the thin bars of the cell and reaches for Holtzmann. “Did they hurt you?”

Holtzmann shrugs.

“Alright, we are _absolutely_ done here.” Erin swirls on her heels. “I’m going to count to three, and if she isn’t out of her cell, I will have Jennifer Lynch on the line, and I can absolutely guarantee that you do not want-“

Davidson rolls his eyes, then reaches for the ring of keys on his belt. Without saying a word, he unlocks the cell and ushers Holtzmann out. Erin glares at him the entire time, immediately pulling Holtz into her arms the moment she steps free from Davidson’s grip.

“Are you ready to go home?” Erin asks, rubbing softly between Holtzmann’s shoulder blades with her palm. She can feel the bones beneath her fingertips, and it’s only then that she realizes how thin Holtzmann has gotten. There’s a gash on the back of her neck right at her hairline, and bruises of various colors along her arm. While some are greenish yellow and almost healed, others are bright purple and blue and - most concerning - _fresh_.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Holtzmann asks quietly, refusing to look Erin in the eye. She picks at some dirt under her fingernails as they walk together toward the back exit of the police station.

It may not be the proper thing to do, but Erin can’t help herself when she pulls Holtz in for a careful yet tight hug. She buries her face in Holtzmann’s tangled hair – which smells like a mixture of cigarette smoke and Sandalwood - and wipes away her tears against a group of frizzy curls. “Jillian, you know you don’t even have to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erin to the rescue! But what lies ahead now that Holtz is home?
> 
> Comments, as always, make the author smile and inspire more :)


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